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    • Artiest: Insane Clown Posse
      Song: My Fun House


    • Rich boy's in trouble
      Car broke down on a drive through the ghetto
      All the weird people, you gotta get the fuck out
      Need to use the phone, step into my funhouse
      Hey yo, dope, looks like we got another
      He'd like to go for a ride on the neck cutter
      Straight to the cart for the next spectacular
      Just to know, it's a dead body sittin next to ya
      Get ready for the carnival thrills
      Should of cut your little faggot ass in the hills
      Boom! through the door into the room, you gotta check it out
      It's where we cut your fingers off and stick em in your mouth
      That should show you that you greedy little rich fuckIf you're bucking with
      the juggla you're a dead duck
      Eight fingers in your mouth and two sticking out your nose
      Further down the hall, the room with jokeros
      That's where you get by seventeen wicked clowns
      For the seventeen dead bodies never found
      And they jump on your back until your ribs crack
      Toss you in the cart and push you down the deli tracks
      Spinning and twisting, rolling and bumping
      The dead fuck next to ya is trying to tell ya somethin
      Listen close, you can barely make it out
      "Bitch, you ain't shit in my electric funhouse"

      "Help me, I'm trapped in here. Somebody let me out.
      Oh my god!!! Aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!!"

      "Come here, rich boy
      My head is spinning 360 degrees
      Richie richie richie
      Come here"

      "Bitch, fuck you, yeah, know what I'm saying
      Wicked clowns running the funhouse
      Ain't no way to get out until the killer gets your neck cut like a man"

      Pick a card, any card, any motherfucking card......A joker's card
      Sorry, bitch, the luck of the draw
      Violent J's gonna have to ice your jaw
      Snap, bang, snip, boom
      Send that motherfucker off to the next room
      Crash through the doors on the windy spinny trail
      Through a loop-de-loop and into a big nail
      Straight through his left eye and out the back of his head
      Is he dead?
      No, cause he has to go to the next phase
      It's the room of giggles because of your ways
      You like to sit and laugh at people when they suffer
      Well, now you sit and watch me laugh when I stick your mother
      It's the funhouse, bitch, everything's funny
      You act like whipping on your ass ain't funny
      And the ride of your life only gets faster
      Off to the R-r-r-ringmaster
      I take my bobo gun and blow your fuckin mouth in
      Eh, yo, the next room, it's called the chicken pen
      And it's a little tribute to the bigots of the south
      We take a dead chicken shove it in your mouth
      And we stuff it down your throat with a pitchfork
      Cuz you're a big gut, that's what you get for it
      Now I take your sorry ass and I throw you out
      Cuz I don't need your dead body stinkin up my funhouse
      Funhouse, stinkin up my funhaugh!


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